


My Lion

by Elendil_Anduril



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Canon Divergence, Character Study, Developing Relationship, F/M, First Kiss, Happy Ending, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, Minor PTSD Warning, Mutual Pining, Pining, Singing, this got out of hand
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-14
Updated: 2017-10-14
Packaged: 2019-01-17 06:08:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,006
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12359130
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Elendil_Anduril/pseuds/Elendil_Anduril
Summary: Cullen, the Commander of the Inquisition's forces, has a problem, and her name is Aeryn Trevelyan. She haunts him while he works, sleeps, everything he does. He would have liked to think she felt the same. They seemed to share a connection, but was he fooling himself? Or, could there be something more?





	My Lion

**Author's Note:**

> "Lion of Ferelden" belongs to Suzanne Van Pelt (the song can be found here https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-oA-OvP3vME) I DO NOT CLAIM THIS SONG, IT BELONGS TOTALLY TO HER. I just love the song and this story just wouldn't leave me alone!
> 
> Enjoy!

Cullen rubbed at his neck as pain surged from his spine. He had been bent over his desk, reports and surveys strewn across the expanse of oak. After his morning drills with the troops, he had spent the majority of the day pouring over parchment that needed his attention. The last time he had looked up, sun was spilling into his tower through the slits of windows that faced the east. Now, the sun was gone, the sky outside a rich pink with splashes of orange highlighting the high clouds. 

Cullen stretched his back, groaning from the pops of vertebrae. His stomach ached from the lack of food, but he pushed the sensation away. He’d luckily ate a slice of hard tack and drank water before his morning routines, which was better than some days when his withdrawal symptoms wouldn’t allow anything to cross his lips without fear of it coming back up. 

A stack of reports sat in front of him, ones that needed Aery- the Inquisitor’s attention as well. He felt his cheeks redden with the thoughts of the mage. What was brewing between them was … well, he wasn’t sure what it was yet. He’d had liked to think they were friends. 

But there was more than that. She had been there when his will to fight against lyrium almost crumbled. She was the face who walked in on his and Cassandra’s argument about his remaining the Inquisition’s Commander. He felt he could no longer serve to the best of his abilities. Nausea and heat flashes dogged him all day long. Sleep eluded him most nights and the night did find peace, the fade laid traps and nightmares for him. When Aeryn walked in, the shame of his state forced him to leave the room, begging Aeryn’s forgiveness. He half-expected her dismiss him on the spot, seeing his weakness and knowing he wasn’t worthy of the Inquisition’s or her time. 

He had sat out his lyrium kit on his desk in his tower afterward, hating himself and the glowing blue liquid, and yet, _yearning_ for it. He should have gotten rid of it months ago, but he just couldn’t let it go. Yet another weakness…

Self-loathing, rage, frustration boiled within him and he threw the kit, narrowly missing the blonde mage’s small form as she crossed his open door as the kit practically exploded on the wooden frame. He begged yet again for her forgiveness and confessed to Aeryn about… everything. Kinloch, Kirkwall, his desire to serve and be more, but _it_ just wouldn’t leave him. He had sworn to fight for the Inquisition’s cause, he shouldn’t be hindered by anything. He should give as much as he had the Chantry years before. Lyrium would help him focus, help him to forget the past, help him to be a better leader. 

He should have been taking it…

He wasn’t even aware of the pain in his clinched fist as he slammed it against his bookshelf until he felt the sticky warm blood within his glove. Aeryn rounded to stand before him, though she was significantly shorter than him, her beseeching gray eyes peering into his as she asked him to forget the Inquisition, and asked of what of he wanted. What did he want? Did he truly want lyrium? To fall into the nothingness of the drug; to forget the bad, but also the good? 

No… he wanted to be free. 

But his past still haunted him; it may never leave him. He didn’t know if he could endure, but Aeryn pressed her palm to his chest, above his heart, storm eyes gazing into his soul as she confirmed her belief that he could. 

Maybe if she believed, maybe he could as well. 

After that, Aeryn was constantly on his mind, even when he struggled with the torment of withdrawal. Pain blinding him to all else, he’d lie in his bed, tossing and turning, sweat clinging to his brow. When he thought couldn’t get through it, lying under the stars, with thoughts of an end bringing peace almost overwhelmed him, she’d materialize in his mind. Her soft gaze, her smile, her dedication… Aeryn playing with the children of Skyhold, teaching them about plants and their many uses. Laughing over a vain one-sided complement from Dorian or reading a new book with Varric, playing chess in the garden… her bringing him a bite to eat or a book she thought he’d enjoy. Those thoughts made the pain a little easier. As the days passed, his mind cleared, focusing on her, which helped spur him to his work. What little he could do to make the world a better place would help her to be safe as well. 

Some time passed, he found himself crossing the battlements, thinking on all the things he needed to bring to the war council when the breeze ruffled his hair, catching his attention. Normally, Skyhold was a bustling center of commerce, a military hub, a network of spies, but at this one still moment, with no one around for once, Cullen found his feet transfixed against the dark stone. Skyhold was a truly wondrous place, mountains towering on all sides, the sun glinting against the silver white snow and blue ice. The air was crisp and cool, but fresh. Kirkwall was a city of pollution and mist, the air always heavy and muggy. But Skyhold was the opposite; so open and free. 

Cullen smiled in spite of that small voice in the back of his mind whispering all the tasks undone that day. It was nice to be able to relax and enjoy the moment. Times like this were few and far between. Honestly, he couldn’t remember the last time he had taken the time to just breathe. 

Cullen heard the soft footfalls coming up beside him. He knew who it was even before she spoke. He had grown to know her footsteps. Her supple boots padded softer than the troops hard boots.

He thanked her awkwardly for her kind words and affirmation in his abilities, tripping over his words. Why was it always hard to say the right thing to her? Everything always sounded better in his head before he spoke with her. 

Aeryn stood beside him on the battlement, eyes bright and alive, listening to his every word. The light breeze lifted strands of her straight blonde hair. Cullen was always annoyed how he would get so distracted over those tiny little details about her. As he continued, he expressed his regrets, his hopes, and she hung on every word. He gazed out at the surroundings while her eyes were glued to him. 

A smile touched her lips as she spoke, “For what's its worth, I like who you are now.” Even after all he had done? Done to mages? All his sins had been laid bare before her, she should have accosted him. Threw him to the wolves. Being a mage herself, she shouldn’t be so at ease standing next to him, the infamous Knight-Captain of Kirkwall, Meredith’s second in Command.

“Cullen, I care about you. You’ve done nothing to change that.”

She _cared_. Aeryn was willing to see beyond Cullen’s past. Beyond Kinloch, beyond Kirkwall, to see the man he truly was. The man whom he hoped to be. For nothing else, at least, for her. 

So, where did all this leave them? She did only care for him as a colleague? Friend? Maybe something more?

Maker, he hoped so. 

Shaking his head slightly to shake his pointless wishes, he pushed the chair back away from his desk, gathering up the reports in his gloved hands. He wanted to make sure to drop these off to the Inquisitor’s desk before it became too late in the evening. The Inquisitor tended to drift toward the tavern some evenings, enjoying the company of her inner circle, especially Dorian, Varric, and Iron Bull. 

He made his way through the main hall, quickly pardoning himself around the many nobles who congregated in the hall. One time a noble complained to Josephine that the Commander would never get a proper arrangement for marriage if he didn’t slow down and mingle -which, of course, ensure that he would always rush through the hall even more briskly, just to stick it to the Orlesians. 

Cullen entered into the Inquisitor’s door, marching toward the door to her quarters. As he approached her door, he pecked on the door with his knuckles. No answer. In case she didn’t hear, he rapped again, and once again, no answer. 

Assuming Aeryn wasn’t in her quarters, already retired to the tavern for the evening’s festivities, he opened the door. 

As soon as he began to walk through the threshold, he immediately regretted his impetuous assumption. Far above, even through the small opening, he heard the strum of an instrument. Maker damn it all, why would he think its ok just barge into her quarters? He should have come earlier and dropped off his reports to her at a more appropriate time. The Inquisitor only had one desk: the one in her quarters. Maybe he should have sent a female messenger to drop off his reports. Thinking back on the Orlesians hovering all over the hall, he could only imagine the rumors those vultures are formulating. The Commander sneaking into the Inquisitor’s quarters this late in the day, stealing her virtue? 

Cursing himself, he made a turn to rush back to his tower as fast as his feet could carry him, but Aeryn’s voice stopped him in his tracks. 

_“Oh, lion, my lion, your deafening roar…”_

Her voice flowed over the chords on the lute she strummed, like water over a brook. He had never heard her sing before. For that matter, he never knew she was musically inclined. Some mages would be taught by the chanters some musical talent, but they tended to be limited in their lessons since the chanters could only sing the Chant. He had heard her hum before while bounding around Haven and Skyhold, but nothing quite so… enthralling as this. 

Cullen wasn’t even aware he entered fully into her quarters, standing at the bottom of the stairs, hand on the stone wall, straining to hear her melodious voice. 

_“Will again be as loud as it once was before_

_We fight through the nightmares, the shades and the fade_

_Til the war has been won and the tides have been swayed”_

Cullen felt his feet being pulled by her voice, taking the stairs slowly one at a time. He was entranced by her, drawn to the plucks of strings at an andante pace. 

_“Haunted by your past_

_those that came before_

_Nightmares rule your night_

_fear they come once more”_

Stopping short of the final stair, Cullen peered over the wall separating the stairs from the floor of the room. He tried to hide between the space of the railings so he could duck back down if need be. Aeryn wasn’t found at her desk or anywhere in the room. Confused, Cullen craned his neck to see that she had moved her desk chair to the open balcony door, a lute laid over her lap, her fingers dancing across the frets as her other hand plucked the individual strings in a cadence of chords. The last bands of light from the setting sun shown upon her face, her blonde hair unbound, falling down in swirls of gold and silver, framing her freckled face. 

Maker’s breath, but she was beautiful. 

_“Chased by memories_

_figures in the dark_

_Clawing through your mind_

_they have left their mark”_

Images of Kinloch immediately appeared in his mind, causing Cullen to start to tremble. No, this is real, Aeryn's singing was real. Cullen’s chest burned where the scars of the desire demon’s claws had cut into him years before. There were no demons now; no blood mages, no claws, no pain. Just her voice. Only Aeryn. 

She repeated the chorus as Cullen listened intently, forcing his focus on her eyes as they fluttered close on she held out notes with her voice. 

_“Oh lion, my lion your deafening roar_

_Will again be as loud as it once was before_

_We fight through the nightmares, the shades and the fade_

_Til the war has been won and the tides have been swayed_

 

_Sword and shield in hand_

_not a soul can see_

_Behind those amber eyes_

_lies a silent plea”_

Her song reminded him of Maryden, the minstrel in the tavern, and songs she would serenade the tavern patrons. If Aeryn ever wished to perform in the tavern, she would the star of the show, Aeryn’s sweet lilting voice would win over any who listened, and Maryden would be out of a job. 

_“Suffering in silence_

_the burden you must bare_

_Getting lost_

_in the depths of your despair”_

Whoever Aeryn was singing about was someone she definitely cared greatly about. He could feel the conviction in her voice, as if it were sitting beside her and singing along with her in harmony. Her emotion bled out of her and into the room around her. Nothing else stirred in the room, not even Cullen. He was bewitched by her. 

_“Oh lion, my lion your deafening roar_

_Will again be as loud as it once was before_

_We fight through the nightmares, the shades and the fade_

_Til the war has been won and the tides have been swayed”_

Cullencouldn’t help but feel as though he was trespassing. The song was definitely not for herself. Her heart bled for this person she was mentioning in the piece. He sifted through every person he could think that the Inquisitor’s song could have been meant for. Someone who suffered, someone whom she fought beside, especially in referenced to the nightmares, shades, and fade. But who? Iron Bull? A lion was an animal to be feared, much like the Qunari. He had not love for the fade or the denizens of the Fade. He was also a Ben-Hassrath from Seheron. Cullen heard the tales of the suffering of that island, and Bull made no secret his time there or the hardships he experienced there.

_“Lay your past to sleep_

_let the fear subside_

_No matter how lost you are_

_You don't have to hide”_

Aeryn’s voice quivered slightly as she sang, making Cullen’s heart squeeze in his chest. He saw a single trail of silver slide down her cheek. 

He shook his head, it couldn’t be the Iron Bull, not that she didn't care for him. He was like an older brother, constantly picking and protecting her, never indicating that she had such strong feelings about him. This had to be a person that Aeryn cared for deeply, maybe even loved. 

Cullen’s heart sank. Was there another? Rubbing the back of his neck, Cullen made to turn back down the stairs, feeling like an intruder on the Inquisitor and her secrets, shame biting at his heel. He shouldn’t be there, he had no right to listen to her song, to her heart. Especially when it would never belong to him. Whoever was lucky enough to be given hers better realize how grateful they should be. What he wouldn’t give to her his.

_“The templar on his knees_

_fighting to be free_

_Rise anew to be the man_

_you were meant to be”_

Templar? Cullen was struck frozen in place. A templar fighting to be free? There were few templars in Skyhold, and none of which Cullen knew spoke with Aeryn outside of decorum. A faint hope swelled within him. Was this song about… him? Was he self-absorbed enough to think that she was singing for him? He returned the top of the stairs, feeling like a child pressed against the stone wall on the night before Saturnalia, peeking over the edge for presents. 

_“Oh lion, my lion your deafening roar_

_Will again be as loud as it once was before_

_We fight through the nightmares, the shades and the fade_

_Til the war has been won and the tides have been swayed”_

Cullen could no longer stand in the shadows. He should have turned around, returned to his tower, holding her secret as his, like a precious pearl that belonged only to him. But he was compelled to remain. It was the power of Aeryn. Not the Inquisitor or the Herald of Andraste, but Aeryn Trevelyan. Only her. 

Haunted by your past? The burden you must bare? Fight to be free and arising a new man? It was everything he had told her… She had taken the things that he had told her: his pain, his suffering, his curse, and created something beautiful from it. Something that was hers, something that was a burden to him and now was a beacon, all leading back to her.

As Aeryn began the ritardando to the end, her breath becoming airy and soft. 

_“Til the war has been won… and the tides… have been…”_

She hesitated on the last note, as she breathed out, “ _swayed…”_

Cullen paused in place as Aeryn huffed at herself, her arm swinging around the lute to rub the sleeve of her long tunic against her cheek. 

“Get ahold of yourself, Aeryn,” she breathed as she vigorously wiped her eyes. Cullen wanted very much to cup her face in his hands and wipe her tears away with his pads of his fingers. The thought of her crying, especially on his account, broke his heart. He wasn't fooling himself hoping she was singing for him, but in any case, he couldn’t allow her to cry alone. 

“That was-“ Cullen began, but Aeryn gasped and jumped, leaping out of her chair, her lute clattering to the floor. 

“Cullen!” Aeryn yelped and Cullen immediately regretted his intrusion yet again. Had he no shame?

“I-I’m sorry! Pardon my intrusion,” Cullen took two long strides to her desk, depositing the reports, and turned to leave. He knew his face was beat red. 

“No! Please wait,” Aeryn raced after him, but he made it to the stairs first, taking each step as fast as he could to escape. He couldn’t face her. He thought he could, but, turned out, he was a coward; he couldn’t stand in her light. 

“Cullen, please!” Aeryn pleaded, and Cullen couldn’t ignore it. He paused as his hand touched the knob on the door, pivoting toward her.

Aeryn stood at the top of her stairs, her right hand over her chest, gripping the front of her tunic. Her eyes were panic-y as a halla's, her lips parted slightly as she breathed quick breaths. Was she out of breath because he had frightened her or because she had rushed to catch him?

“Did,” she began quietly, seemly fearful of scaring him away, “I mean, did you need something from me, Commander?”

Commander? Disappointment coursed through him. The unemotional moniker struck him wrong, especially after what he just heard. Obviously, he had been mistakened. 

“Just had some reports for that required the Inquisitor’s attention, I humbly apologize. I did not mean to intrude on your Worship’s time,” his words came off more harsh than he meant it. He wasn’t angry with Aeryn… He wasn’t sure what he was feeling at that moment. And he was not a man who enjoyed feeling not in control, so he twisted the door handle and tried to make his way out. 

“Cullen, wait! Please,” Aeryn bounded down the stairs and Cullen felt his feet plant in place. Even his own two feet betrayed his senses. At that moment, he just wished he had stayed in his tower. Then he wouldn’t be in this ridiculous situation. 

Aeryn took her place at his side, her fingers reaching out tentatively to touch his armored arm, “I thought we could talk?”

Cullen turned his head toward her, his brows low over his eyes in confusion until she continued, “Alone?”

“Alone?” Cullen echoed, his brows now lifted up in surprise. Backtracking quickly, “I mean, of course. But I think we are already alone," he observed meeting her gaze. 

“Right, of course, how silly of me…” Aeryn scrubbed her hand over her face in frustration. He couldn’t help but find the action adorable. 

Finally she looked up at him, “Could we speak _some place else_ alone?”

Cullen stepped to the side, indicating with his hand for her to lead the way. Holding up a finger in a gesture that made him wait, she raced back up the stairs to grab her cloak and met him at the door, ready to go. 

They walked side by side, walking in cadence with each other. They made their way to the battlements again, which had become their impromptu meet-up spot. They walked in uneasy silence, neither wishing to break it in fear of shattering what was between them, causing the other to run.

Cullen couldn’t stand it any longer his hand finding its way to rub the back of his neck, “It's a nice day. 

“What?” Aeryn stopped dead in her tracks, perplexed. Of course he had to say the most absolutely idiotic thing he could think of. Day had ended some time ago and now, the sky was a rich purple, tiny glittering lights flickered to life in place of the once bright white clouds. 

“It’s,” Cullen storked his neck like mad in embarrassment, “There was something you wished to discuss.”

Aeryn paused and looked up at the stars. It reminded him of that night back in Haven when they star-gazed together after she had returned from Redcliffe. He waited patiently. He’d wait all night if she needed it. 

“Did you at least like the song?” Aeryn asked offhandedly. Cullen couldn’t help but laugh at the question, letting out some pent up energy that had been inflating him since he had first stepped into her quarters. 

“It was... lovely," again, very eloquent, "I didn’t even know you could sing,” Cullen moved toward her. 

Aeryn gazed down at her twisting fingers, “My mother had me take singing lessons at an early age, then, in the Circle, the Reverend Mother had a lute and taught me how to play. Maryden has been showing me more techniques.”

Aeryn paused, her fingers twisting more harshly against each other, “Do you know who that song is about?” Her question barely above a whisper. 

Cullen’s breath caught, he prayed he wasn’t wrong, “I- I believe so…”

Aeryn’s hands wrung together so hard that she grunted in frustration, throwing her arms out wide, before stating, “Cullen, I care for you, but-“ she stopped short, becoming somewhat agitated at herself. 

Cullen was bewildered, “What’s wrong?”

“You left the templars, but… do you trust mages? I know what they did to you in Kinloch, I wish I could go back into the past and save you from having to live with those experiences every day… I completely understand if you can’t, but… Could you think of me as anything more?”

This was not how Cullen envisioned how his evening would have turned out. 

“I could. I mean, I-I do… think of you,” Cullen stumbled, again hating himself for his lack of eloquence at times like this, “And what I might say in this sort of situation.” Cullen walked ahead of her, his head hung in shame at his clumsiness. 

“What’s stopping you?” Aeryn breathed, following closer than he anticipated. 

Cullen once again turned to her, facing her with her back to the battlements, “You’re the _Inquisitor_. And we’re at war. And you…” he felt like he was babbling, “I didn’t think it was possible.”

This was her chance. If she felt nothing for him, this was her out, he would not hold her to him. As much as he yearned for her, she was free to leave. 

Aeryn shifted slightly, looking a bit sheepish while glancing away then back at him. “And yet I’m still here,” she replied coyly to him with a lift of her shoulders. 

Cullen couldn’t resist anymore. He would not push her, but if she was saying what he thought she was saying, he couldn’t hold back any longer, “So you are…”

He leaned into her, he could smell the vanilla and lavender soap she used. He didn’t dare touch her yet, allowing her all the chances to move away from him if this wasn’t what she wanted. “It seems to much to ask.”

Cullen looked into her gray-green eyes, looking for any signs of displeasure, and when he found none, he lightly laid his hand on her hip, moving closer, “But I want to-“

They were only inches away from each other, all one had to do was move in and their lips would brush. Cullen’s heart thundered in his chest. Never had he felt this way about kissing a woman, but something about Aeryn caused him to feel like that young templar recruit again. He never wanted it to end. 

Aeryn’s lashes fluttered close, her head tilting toward his, and he closed his eyes as well, ready to take the plunge.

A door closed nearby, “Commander!

Cullen was stricken in place, his hands on the Inquisitor’s hips, entirely too close to even be thought of just having a friendly discussion. 

Aeryn’s eyes rolled up into her head as she expelled an exasperated breath. Her head bounced to the side, allowing Cullen to leave to talk to the intruder. 

Jim, the young recruit from Lelianna, approached with a small pile of reports in his hands, “You wanted a copy of Sister Lelianna’s reports.”

Cullen couldn’t hold back his biting tone, “ _What?_ ” It was evening, and while normally he didn’t mind receiving late reports, he had hoped that this would be the one night he would not receive _any_ reports!

Jim was clueless, “Sister Lelianna’s report? You wanted it delivered ‘without delay’.”

With Aeryn standing awkwardly behind him, Cullen bared down on the poor recruit. He hoped his expression was as frustrated and angry looking as he felt. Jim just looked at him, then peered at the Inquisitor, who was self-consciously wheedling back and forth. 

Finally, the boy put two and two together, realization dawning on him, “Or... to your office… Right…” He backed off, arms off to the side as you would do to an angry animal to make yourself look smaller. 

Cullen felt himself straighten as Jim receded back from whence he came. 

He heard Aeryn’s voice behind him, “If you need to-“

Cullen turned back quickly, pulling her into him, cutting off any words with a gasp. He framed her face with his hands, and before Aeryn could question anything, Cullen captured her lips in his. 

At first, he was worried he was being too bold because Aeryn froze in place, but as he continued to kiss her, she gave into him with a small sigh, pulling him closer with her hands buried in his mantle. 

This was… pure paradise. If he died at that moment, he would die happy. He had kissed other women in the past, but those were all fleeting and lustful, usually a means to an end. But this -this was something different. Something more. He couldn’t describe it, so lost in the experience of it. They were both wrapped within each other’s arms, safe from the world, lost in each’s breaths and soft brushes of lips.

Cullen was the first to pull away, “I’m sorry. That was- um” he felt lightheaded, “really nice.” Cullen smiled in spite of himself, relishing the memory of her lips on his. 

Aeryn’s eyes were still bright with surprised, “I believe that was a kiss,”but a sly demure turn of his mouth spoke of other things, “But I can’t be too sure. It’s all a blur.”

Cullen couldn’t suppress his laughter, too caught up in Aeryn just being herself, “Yes, well…”

No more words were needed, he could take the hint. As he moved back to envelope her, he hoped this wasn’t some cruel joke of the fade. He was in too deep to turn back now or to have this ripped away from him in burning light of morning after a bad dream. But, nothing from the fade ever felt this _real_. Aeryn was here, he was here, and at that moment, that was all that mattered. 

When they both parted again, Aeryn pressed her forehead to his, her lashes resting on her cheeks, a contented smile gracing her features as she breathed heavily. 

“So,” Cullen broke the silence, lifting his hand to gather the fly-away hairs the wind had captured and place them behind her ear. He pressed his palm to her sun-kissed cheek, “Am I the Lion?”

Aeryn snorted, “Of course! Have you seen how intimidating you can be?” She leaned back away from him, not to escape, but to have a better look into his eyes. 

Cullen’s happiness bubbled within him, “You know, lions are associated with Orlais, and as fond as you know I am of Orlesians, I think a Mabari would fit me better.”

“Oh yes, Mabari just rolls the tongue,” Aeryn lifted her hand in a minstrel flourish as she sang, “ _Oh mabari, my mabari, your slobbering drool._ See? Not quite as fanciful as a roaring lion.”

Cullen laughed heartily, enjoying her joke at his expense, “Okay, okay, I understand. Lion does sound better, even if it does remind me of those vultures.

He gathered her hands into his and brought them to his lips as he pressed a kiss to her knuckles, “Just know, if this isn’t what you want… If ever, you want to get out-“

Aeryn pressed up to his mouth one last time that evening to silence him, surprising _him_ this time. He felt a shudder slide down his spine as her tongue feathered over his lower lip, “I think less talking would be prudent in the future, especially of things that are better left unsaid.”

Cullen nodded, not sure what just happened. But whatever it was, he looked forward to more of it in the future. 

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! Again, I wish to reiterate that the song "Lion of Ferelden" belongs to Suzanne Van Pelt. I recommend you check out her work, it's amazing! https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-oA-OvP3vME


End file.
